You are now entering the Yukon

               After leaving Ed and Leigh, the rain clouds finally parted and I continued on to my first Yukon campsite: Watson Lake. This small city in the Yukon hosts one of the most under-rated tourist icons in Canada: the Sign Post Forest. The forest was started in 1942 by a homesick American soldier, who planted a sign with mileage pointing towards his home. As others followed, the forest has grown to a current total of approximately 65,000 signs. I strolled through and managed to find a few from northwest Calgary, just to make sure. The small museum at the Watson Lake Visitor’s Centre located next to the forest is a great gateway to the Yukon’s flora and fauna. Despite the week of rain I couldn’t help but feel elated and excited; I had finally arrived in my first Canadian territory, the Yukon!

               During July, the side of the highway is littered with families of bison. Standing around 6 feet tall and weighing over 2000lbs, these nonchalant beasts can be considerably intimidating to a lone cyclist – especially when they’re relaxing in the limited shoulder (or even most of the right-hand lane). I’m certainly not going to ask a lumbering bison to please excuse me and make space for me to pass. Eventually I recognised that there was nothing to be done (for my prairie friends who have tried cow tipping, imagine a cow that is twice the size, and with horns [I realise I have a very small audience for this parenthesis]) and I resolved to relax and carry on, around the monolithic bovids. As they hardly acknowledged me, it was ok. The sense of true wilderness was only occasionally broken by the rare passing vehicle, often honking or cheering their support as I pushed on towards Whitehorse.

How to pack everything you need onto a bike

I am asked fairly often what I brought with me for my trip. Since I was on my own, it was certainly important to bring only the necessities, so I didn't bring cooking gear or anything extra. It was also relatively cold at night, so a big, warm sleeping bag, and lots of warm clothes were essential. Following is my gear list for the trip:

Camping supplies:	Bike bits:	Personal items:
2-person Tent	2x spare tubes	2x sets biking clothes
Sleeping bag (-10C)	1 spare tire	2x fleece sweaters
Sleeping pad – small	Bike pump	Rain coat
4 panniers – 2X MEC World Tour, 2x MEC 15L	Patch kit	Tuque + mitts
Handle bar bag	Wrench	Camera
3x water bottles + purification tablets	Screwdriver set	Sunscreen
	Helmet	‘normal clothes’
	Lights (didn’t need them)	Bio soap
	Chain Lube	Adventure Towel
	Wire lock – to loop through all panniers, wheels, and tie around a tree.	Book

My two rear panniers carried the heaviest items, while the two small front panniers held the sleeping bag and my clothes. I saw some other cyclists with other methods, including a trailer, and would love to hear what anyone thinks about how that style of touring compares to having the panniers on the bike. 

The Alcan

Mile 0 of the Alcan

I left Grande Prairie traveling west towards British Columbia, where Mile 0 of the Alaska Highway begins in Dawson Creek. There is a museum in DC located in a cute historic building about the construction and use of the road built by our American friends to connect the US with Alaska during WWII. The road is a popular RV route for American tourists making their summer pilgrimage to Alaska.

Leaving Dawson City, I was greeted with the toughest winds I had seen yet. While the terrain was relatively flat, it was extremely difficult pedalling against the crosswind with constant truck/RV traffic on the single lane highway. Eventually, disaster struck – two large trucks traveling in opposite directions passed me and woosh… lost my balance and went off the side of the Alcan into the grassy ditch. Had anyone seen that, I have no doubt it would have made some cycling blooper reel somewhere. How embarrassing. When I managed to pull myself (and my self-esteem) back together, I saw just ahead of me a 60ft RV that had also fallen prey to the terrible wind conditions, losing their hitch. The driver, Ed, offered to get me out of the unfortunate conditions and drive me up to the next stop in Fort St John. The ride with Ed and his lovely wife, Leigh, was made even more enjoyable when the rain started to pour and their RV home became my shelter from the storm that night. What a great sleep I had on a real bed!

Creepy Beaverlodge, AB beaver

One of the most amazing parts of this trip for me was the kindness from strangers. I met so many wonderful people who loved hearing about what I was doing and were eager to be a part of it in some way. Ed and Leigh offering me shelter from what later turned into a thunderstorm was a simple random act of kindness that has turned into a friendship that we have maintained over a year since meeting on the side of a blustery highway in northern BC.

Just me and the trees

I had a short stay in Jasper to visit some family, and on my last day I went white-water rafting on the Athabasca River before drying off and hopping back on the bike towards Hinton, AB. The ride was mainly downhill, and even enjoyed a tailwind for parts of it. After spending the night I got up early, feeling revived to tackle the highway toward Grande Cache (home of the Death Race), however at the Timmy Ho’s I was given strong advice against cycling that road – traffic is mainly truckers, there is absolutely no shoulder, and there are currently long stretches of construction. I was sad to bypass this part and largely questioned my decision, however once I saw the rough construction zones and what literally no shoulder meant, and how busy the truck traffic was, I realised that I would have been miserable out there and I was okay with the hitchbike option up to Grande Cache. 

Back to safety, beyond Grande Cache I felt like I had been released into the vast, forested wilderness of northwest Alberta. At the top of each climb there would be a view of the unending hills and valleys through forestry land that would lead me to BC. I spent my first night of real wilderness camping (read: I didn’t pay for it) completely alone – I swear I heard a bear outside my tent – and went most of the days in my own silence with no one around for conversation. There was, however, one very random encounter I had just south of Grande Prairie that I’m still a little sceptical I didn’t hallucinate...
The road from Grande Cache to Grande Prairie is about 190 uninhabited kilometers, which I took two days to cover. Mid-morning on my second day, like a mirage in the desert I came across a little diner-on-wheels. Seriously. A food cart. Out here? The delightful owner explained that the truckers have nowhere else around these parts to stop for lunch, so she found a golden business opportunity for her old camper-van. The breakfast she made me was by no means heart-healthy, but my goodness was coffee a welcome friend that morning!
With my extra water bottles and my belly full, in addition to some regained sanity after speaking to another human, I felt fantastic to charge upwards (uphill) and onwards to Grande Prairie. There was a fun little 15-minute rain storm, after which my black bike and I came out entirely caked in mud. Now I see what fenders are all bout!

Goats outside Jasper National Park

Starting Out (Putting some muscles on the legs)

A good weather day seems like a better time than ever to take off. My first day was gifted with sunshine, low traffic, and a tail wind. I rode the 1A from Calgary to Banff National Park and amazed myself with a 127km ride on my first day – double the longest training ride I’d ever had. I may not have known it at the time, but Day 1 was certainly the flattest day I would encounter on this trip.

Smiling because she thinks
 she's near the top (not even close)!

The first week of the ride was amply challenging as it included two major mountain passes and the Icefields Parkway. There were a few moments of self-loathing for not following a proper training regimen before embarking on what I was now really beginning to respect as a considerably difficult journey. In particular, climbing the Sunwapta Pass in the high heat (can’t complain about weather) and not a breath of wind (definitely can’t complain about a lack of headwinds – they would later haunt me most of the way to Northern BC) convinced me in my heat-exhausted state that the highway was literally leading me directly up to the sun in the sky. But, what goes up must come down and the descent towards the Athabasca Glacier, and the town of Jasper the next day, were brilliantly rewarding.

Family visit in Jasper for white water rafting

The segment of the tour through Banff and Jasper National Parks were equally lucky with sunshine, relatively no wind, and tons of wildlife spotting including two bears in the last 1.5km of riding to my Day 3 campsite (I ensured the bear spray was conveniently located that night). As National Parks, this section was the most expensive part of my trip and I would advise any solo traveler to stay in the excellent wilderness hostels, which will be cheaper than camping for one person, and buying all of your food supplies before entering the parks. This is my all-time favourite Canadian cycling route with abundance of vistas, lakes, mountains, wide shoulders, and super friendly tourists encouraging you along on the big climbs!

Jennifer's Spin to the Yukon

Jasper National Park

In the summer of 2010 I decided to try something I had never done before – or never even considered doing until weeks prior to my departure. I wanted to travel to the Yukon, so I decided the best way to get there would be to bike. I would leave straight from my front door in Calgary, and pedal the whole way with all of my camping supplies, and warmest clothes, strapped on to the bike. The idea was incredible: I would travel through National Parks, see some of Canada’s best known mega fauna, sleep outside, exercise daily, and reach one of the corners of this amazing country that I hadn’t yet visited.

Loaded touring bike

So the idea was all set. I had visualised it and made up my mind; I had to make this happen. Now, the biggest flaw in my plan was this: not only had I never cycled long distance, I’d never even cycled outside of the spin class I attend as cross-training for marathons. Every bike store in Calgary (ok, we don’t have that many) scoffed at this young chick who thought she could battle the remote northern wilderness with a bike, despite being completely clueless as to how to adjust a rear derailleur (still am).

I will use this blog to assist other cycling neophytes and pass on what I learned and experienced. So here’s a checklist of what the amateur needs to prepare for a trip like this:

1.      Take a bike mechanic’s course and master changing tires, care and troubleshooting for your bike, and common repairs. I did mine at University of Calgary
 Budget alternative: Check out youtube for bike repair videos.

2.      Probably do a bit of training. Getting used to spending your entire day in the saddle can be a little rough at first. I didn’t quite go nuts on the training, if your first few days are shorter distances you can train-as-you-go.

3.      Research online bike tour communities such as crazyguyonabike.com (or this blog) to get packing lists for your needs.

Now that I’ve packed all my new bike tools, have become a flat repair queen, and have had my last good sleep in my comfy bed, I’m ready to go!


My Route:

View Jen Spins to the Yukon in a larger map

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